Pleasure comes in many forms.
For some, a resort stay featuring a spa day – for others, multiple days at the ballyard.
At Girlsfest2, My Captor and our daughters spending a long resort-based weekend together, reconnecting and experiencing some Me-Time. And Us-Time.
Now an annual event, our daughters enjoy the added benefit of spending time away from their children, who are reminded how much their Mothers do for them.
That recognition fades quickly, but for a few hours home, Mom rules!
Girlsfest2 in Virginia, My Captor and I road-tripped to Alexandria so I could ‘help’ with child-care.
We’re good with long drives – 10 hours to VA – but I-95 often nasty, especially the 2-lane portion in SC.
I liked Ike – but why didn’t he add the third lane?
The drive smooth until alerted of a ‘Traffic Incident Ahead’, Waze leaping into re-routing action.
The next hour wandering through rural SC, with lots of political signs:
One yard had Trump signs, for and against – a mixed marriage apparently;
There were “Stop the Steal” signs, dated 2020, 2016, and 2000 – at least one party never trusts election results – and a ‘2024’ preemptive strike;
And my favorite: “Save Gaza! Win valuable prizes!”
Wandering SC, I realized how much we trust Waze – but swore I could hear it giggle as we drove past Bishopville the third time.
Do Mothers now ask, “If Waze told you to drive into a lake, would you?”
But we reached our destination. Which Waze confirmed.
My Captor and I experiencing very different weekends…
I’d tell you about hers, but “What happens at Girlsfest…stays at Girlsfest”.
Except for the receipts of course.
Wouldn’t enjoy a spa day, don’t let strangers touch my face – I barely let me shave me – but those Asian massage billboards seem intriguing.
My weekend chock full of little league baseball – ahhh, memories.
The game’s charm its consistency: The same generation to generation to generation.
And while I love baseball, it’s paint drying dull – why beer is served at MLB games.
But challenging – anything tougher than hitting a baseball? – and psychologically debilitating: When you strike out, you strike out alone.
Hmmm, understanding some of my issues more clearly…
But some differences: One team had an entire infield named Atticus, an outfield of Phoenixes.
And advanced metrics have arrived: Bat speed, swing angle, and exit velocity, measuring how quickly we left at game’s end.
Chatter different now – “Hey batter, batter, do your best!” “Don’t let the umpire judge you” and “Divest from fossil fuels”.
Much the same.
LOTS of pitches thrown –in a nightmare I was a little league catcher – and coaches still shouting ‘helpful’ instructions to hitters.
Including “Good eye”, “Bad eye”, and “Don’t help him” – which seemed a bit callous.
But instead of teaching kids hitting, maybe teach yield curves and investing.
There was a “The only thing wrong with youth sports is adults” moment: With the pitcher on the ground, drilled by a liner, some parents complaining about the call.
Feeling much like old cross country meets: Only periodically seeing someone I knew participating.
But at the surprise school choral and band concert – some visit lagniappe! – I learned playing the trumpet is harder than hitting a baseball.
The choral concert lively, reviving my childhood Lawrence Welk fixation, but the band concert confirming Beethoven’s decision to poke his ears out.
After, in an emotional moment, Henry announced his retirement from the trumpet.
But, each in our own way, My Captor and I had big times – – the weekend reminding how important it is – and lucky we are – to spend time with the ones we love.
For 225 more posts like this –each with a wish for a hint on if that was really a strike– go to beersatthenifty.com. Your phone will display every post, and you can waste an hour or two.
Or send me an email to the site, and I’ll add you to my Sunday distribution.
And I’m now on Substack at justluckytobehere.substack.com. Same stuff, but a different location.
ENHANCE YOUR ENJOYMENT OF THIS POST, PAIR IT WITH THE FOLLOWING ‘AGING HIPSTER MUSIC’:
The ‘Be Good Tanyas’ are a Vancouver based trio, formed in ’99 and still active. Their style is alt-country and/or Americana, or Chick Music.
I’ve added ‘Waiting Around to Die’ ‘Daft daughter’s Blues’ and ‘It’s Not Happening’ to the BATN playlist. I’ve also added ‘Done’ by Frazey Ford, one of the trio.